A Sicilian Seduction

any idea what you are doing to me?’

‘Yes,’ she said, and it shut down his anger like a plug being pulled on something destructive.

Because there it was—the look in her eyes he had first seen long days ago and had been searching for ever since. It was warm, it was soft, it was steamy and sultry and reminded him of the goal he had set himself to learn what happened to her eyes when he was deep inside her and she was toppling over the edge…

‘Yes…’ he agreed on a sensual hiss that made her tremble because she knew he was turning the answer right back on herself.

For he knew what he was doing to her, and as she gazed up into his velvet dark eyes, with their fires of desire burning inside, she knew she was about to be drawn into the flame.

He was taking over. He had been playing it passively for a while but now he became the man she’d expected, dark and demanding, holding her eyes by sheer strength of will as he reached for the hand she still had linked around his neck, and, being very deliberate about it, he drew the hand down between their two bodies and placed it on the clasp to his trousers.

It was a command to finish undressing him, and heat prickled along her skin. If he saw her uncertainty he wasn’t letting her keep it. ‘Do it,’ he urged her and lifted his own hands to her shoulders, where long fingers hooked beneath narrow bra straps and with an agonising slowness he began drawing them down the curve of her arms.

It was a mutual undressing which heightened the tension to its nth degree. Tiny lace cups folded away from two high, firm, perfect breasts that clearly didn’t need the support anyway. She released a sharp gasp when he first touched her there, running feather-like caresses over newly exposed flesh that responded by swelling and tightening with pleasure…

‘Do it,’ he repeated, keeping her mind focused on her own task, even if she didn’t want it to be. ‘Undress me,’ he urged. ‘Touch me. I want to feel what you feel…’

He could see what she was feeling because her head had tipped back and her mouth had parted and she was barely functioning on a conscious level. So when her fingers began to move against his waist, it felt like a small victory to be able to command her even while she was lost like this.

But it was a brief victory, he realised, feeling the muscles around his waist contract forcefully when her nails inadvertently rasped against his flesh. Sensation went raking through him, hot enough and tight enough to clench muscles all over him. Dio, he thought, and she hasn’t even touched me where it matters yet…

It was all so erotic. While her fingers fumbled with the catch on his trousers, he was running tormenting forays across her acutely taut nipples with his fingertips. And her breathing was hectic; she couldn’t think beyond the crazy notion that if this was making love the Sicilian way, then how did any woman survive it?

You don’t know if you will yet, a little voice inside her head dryly taunted. This is only the beginning; wait until he decides to move to the really heavy stuff.

Stuff like lowering his dark head to kiss her hotly as she began to draw his zip down and felt the backs of her fingers make contact with a hard male erection covered by only the thin fabric of his undershorts. The experience made the centre of her sex begin to pulse to a beat of its own making, or maybe it was his beat, she was no longer sure of anything worth a damn. The whole affair was beginning to grow very steamy, his mouth hot and demanding on her mouth, his fingers tormenting her breasts and his manhood playing havoc with any preconceptions she might have had about his prowess in that area of his physical make-up.

She failed the major test though, because for the life of her she couldn’t get herself to peel down those shorts. Or maybe he was the one that relented, she thought dazedly when, on a sudden decision that seemed to come from nowhere, he unclipped her bra, discarded it to the floor, then lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. Carefully lowering her onto it, he stood back to begin removing the rest of his clothes himself while she curled onto her side and lay there watching the deliberate strip-show taking place.

His shoes left his feet, the trousers were stripped away along with undershorts and socks in a few swift economical moves that quite simply took her breath away. But not as the sight of his body did, its leanness and its strength and the arrogance with which he displayed it all culminating in turning the excitement she was experiencing up another notch…

He saw it happen, saw the flame light her eyes and felt suddenly charged with sheer masculine pride in what she was seeing. But then, the feeling was mutual. She was lying here on his bed at last, and as he came down beside her his heart was thundering because she was the one who was reaching for him.

Everything merged into one long glorious coming-together after that. Her hands moved on his body, and his lips sought her breasts and the delicate round of her navel so exquisitely sensitive to the lap of his tongue. And she was anxiously kneading his shoulders when he began to slide the last flimsy scrap of silk down her hips.

‘Kiss me,’ she groaned.

It was such a desperate little command that he stretched up to take her mouth with a hungry passion that she simply sank herself into while he continued caressing each new section of flesh he was exposing. When his finger finally made contact with the soft mound of curls at the apex of her sex, he felt the fine, tight shudder of pleasure ripple through her, and was overawed by how good it made him feel.

And it wasn’t all one-sided because her hands were moving over his body, tracing restlessly the length of his back, the lean tightness of his buttocks, his hair-roughened thighs, and he found himself willing her to put him out of his agony and take him in hand. It became a kind of battle, while their mouths clung and their bodies writhed, and their fingers hovered just beyond the goal both of them desperately craved.

Who surrendered the battle first it was difficult to say; maybe it was a joint surrender, because as he felt the tip of his finger slide that extra inch into sheer, sweet luxury her fingers closed around him with a delicate tenderness that rocked him to the core.

Her few scraps of clothing were an irritant now. With a rough sound of impatience he pushed himself up and completely rid her of her white panties. The stockings came next, sliding off silken legs which aided him by lifting and flexing in a way that almost sent him over the edge. He caught one long, slender calf in his hand and bowed his mouth to it, hungrily, sucking and biting his way upwards—until she stopped him by the simple act of pulling him by his hair back down beside her.

And in that one urgent movement, everything changed yet again. They looked deep into each other’s eyes and it acted like a gentle calming, everything slowed to a long, lazy touch, feel, teasing medley. She kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, his arrogant nose, and smiled softly when he returned the honour.

‘Beautiful,’ he whispered, stroking his fingers through the silken spread of her hair. ‘You take my breath away.’

‘So do you,’ she softly confided.

He laughed, softly. Then suddenly he wasn’t laughing, he was kissing her hot and deep, and the whole thing became charged again, but with serious intent this time. Caresses became bold, more intimate, until they were touching each other with an urgency that could only be assuaged one way.

He came over her, she welcomed him, he settled his lean hips between her clinging thighs, and as he prepared to join them she seemed to know that he wanted her to open her eyes, and to keep on looking at him as that joining became real with the single deep thrust of his hips.

His eyes were black, glittering down at her, his features taut with desire. He began to move, slowly, deeply, watched the telling darkening of her own eyes as he built the pulsing pleasure at his own rich pace. Her legs had locked themselves around his body, her slender arms clinging to his back. And as the urgency grew in both of them still their eyes did not break contact; it was part of the loving, a necessary part, another point of total communication where they spoke to each other with every sense but without words.

Her eyes held no blue